"The Man that's Resolute and Just, / Firm to his Principles and Trust, / Nor Hopes, nor Fears can blind; / No Passions his Designs controll, / Not Love, that Tyrant of the Soul, / Can shake his steddy Mind."

"Nor should such ruffling Storms molest / The Halcyon Smoothness of thy Breast / Doubt, Avarice, and the pale Multitude / Of greedy Harpyes, which intrude / Ev'n at our Meals, no Entrance find / On the strong Armour of your Mind, / Which You can straiten or unbend."